


Tracking Devices and Other Anomalies

by Mystical_Artist



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-28
Updated: 2013-08-28
Packaged: 2017-12-24 22:23:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/945347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mystical_Artist/pseuds/Mystical_Artist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Finch powered down the computer and regarded Reese with a frown. “Mr. Reese, why did you put a tracking device on me without my consent?”</p>
<p>Reese stared back with crossed arms. “You knew it was there.” His unfolded his arms and pushed himself off the desk. “I think the more important question is why you didn’t remove it.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tracking Devices and Other Anomalies

_I’ve lost people before, so when I care about someone I plant a tracking device on them._

When Finch had first watched the surveillance of Shaw demanding Reese to help her find the billionaire, he had been annoyed.

No, he had been livid.

Not about the physical tracking device, since he knew that was there immediately after Reese had planted it.

Harold was angry at himself for not removing the device the moment he had the chance to.

Skimming through the surveillance footage from his second time with Root, Finch could only feel guilt at the look of dismay written on John’s face when he found the broken spectacles lying on the ground.

He hovered over the newest folder of images and clicked on it to find the hundreds of images of Reese and himself he had recently filed away. He wasn’t sure why he had felt the need to create an entire file dedicated to their interactions, but it had seemed important at the time.

“What are you doing, Finch?” Reese asked with a rasp as he crept up behind his boss.

Harold quickly closed the tab in surprise, but he knew the other man had already seen enough.

“It’s nothing, Mr. Reese. There’s no new number, so if you wish to take the day off you may. I already sent Miss Shaw home.”

Reese took a step closer. “It didn’t look like ‘nothing’.” He stood behind Finch’s chair and placed his hand over the billionaire’s where it was currently resting on the mouse. The taller man moved his index finger to push Finch’s finger down, effectively re-opening the folder with the images.

They sat in silence as Reese cycled through the pictures, which mostly showed John with his arm wrapped protectively around Harold.

He paused when he got to one that looked as though Reese leaning in to kiss Finch, but said nothing.

Having seen enough, Reese used Finch’s hand to close the document window before moving around to the edge of the desk, where he leaned his hip against it and crossed his arms.

“Well, that was…interesting.”

Finch powered down the computer and regarded Reese with a frown. “Mr. Reese, why did you put a tracking device on me without my consent?”

Reese stared back with crossed arms. “You knew it was there.” His unfolded his arms and pushed himself off the desk. “I think the more important question is why you didn’t remove it.”

Finch swallowed and licked his lips. “There are some things you are better off not knowing. Allowing you to know my whereabouts at all times is very dangerous for both of us, Mr. Reese.”

The taller man stepped closer so he was invading Finch’s personal space. “All the more reason for you to remove it, then. You’re avoiding the issue, Finch.” He knelt down in front of Harold’s chair before continuing. “Why didn’t you destroy the tracker?”

Finch closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair. “I don’t know.”

 

\-------------------------

Once Reese finally left him alone, Finch went grocery shopping to replenish their supply with something other than Hot Pockets.

He strolled through the store, absently placing items in the cart as he contemplated his conversation with Reese from earlier.

His employee never did give him a straight answer as to _why_ he felt the need to track Finch at all times.

Then again, Finch couldn’t really complain. At least he was safe from harm with Reese constantly following him.

Standing in front of the produce display, Harold debated between buying strawberries or blackberries. He’d been craving some shortcake recently…

“You should get the blueberries instead…”

Finch started in surprise. “Mr. Reese, are you following me?” Finch asked, subtly glancing around him.

“No,” John said in a way that clearly meant “yes”.

The man in question materialized beside him as though he had been there the whole time. Finch turned off his earpiece and grabbed a quart of blueberries, placing them in the cart. Reese gave him a smug look in response.

Finch tossed a pint of blackberries in there too, just to spite him.

Reese brushed their arms together as Finch started pushing the cart toward the checkouts. The billionaire glared at him from the corner of his eye. “Do you really not have anything better to do than to follow me around?”

Reese shrugged. “What else would I do?”

Finch sighed. “Surely there are other people you would rather spend time with? Miss Morgan perhaps, or Miss Shaw?”

The former op snorted. “Zoe’s in Mexico right now, and even if she wasn’t…” He shook his head. “And Shaw? I’m not interested in dating myself, Finch.”

“I would hardly say you and Miss Shaw are the same. Your morals seem a bit more refined than hers,” Finch said as they got in line.

Reese began unloading the few items onto the conveyer before moving back behind Finch so the billionaire could pay for the purchases.

Finch tried not to notice the odd glances the elderly cashier kept throwing them as she rang them up.

They parted ways in the parking lot, and Harold promised to see him in the library the next morning.

 

\-------------------------

Finch eased himself into a nice relaxing bath that evening. Taking off his glasses as he leaned back, Harold eyed them carefully. There was another tracking device on this pair.

Of course there was.

He knew he should take it off and destroy it, but he couldn’t bring himself to.

There was a quiet scratching from the other side of the bathroom door, and Finch could see brown paws wedging themselves underneath it.

“I’ll be out soon, Bear,” Finch called. He received a whimper in response.

Harold put his glasses back on and leaned his cheek against his hand. He absently wondered if Reese put a tracker on Bear, since the canine didn’t come with a chip that could trace him back to his current owners.

He also wondered if there was anyone else that had one.

Somehow, he doubted it.

Reese didn’t care about very many people on a deep level. Harold had memorized the files concerning John Reese to every last detail, and the only person the man had truly cared about was Jessica.

John had kept tabs on her when he was part of the CIA, even after she had left him for Peter. He still hadn’t been able to save her, and Finch knew Reese beat himself up over it every day.

Reese was always keeping tabs on Harold after Root had kidnapped him. Routine check-ups, having Fusco follow him to his safe houses, following him to the grocery store….the list went on and on and seemed to get bigger by the day.

Whenever the name “Root” was even mentioned, Reese automatically moved closer and refused to let Harold out of his sight.

_When I care about someone_

Oh.

Finch sat up as quickly as his battered body would allow.

_Oh._

“Oh dear…” he murmured, hauling himself out of the tub and draining the water. Bear barked happily from the other side of the door.

Harold reached up and tapped his earpiece with a shaky hand.

“Yeah, Finch?” Reese asked before Harold was able to say anything.

He blurted out his current address before he could lose his nerve and then disconnected the Bluetooth.

He pulled on silk pajamas and the matching robe before making himself a cup to tea to calm his nerves.

When Reese pounded furiously on the door, Harold hurried over before the former agent could break it down.

“Finch! What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

The taller man hurried into the apartment and began checking Harold over for injuries.

“No, no I’m fine, it’s really just- did you _run_ here?” He asked as he took in the other man’s appearance; the former op’s forehead was sweaty and he was breathing heavily.

Reese stopped mid-pat and blinked at him. “I thought you were in trouble.”

Finch regarded him with his mouth open for a beat before replying. “I apologize, Mr. Reese. I should have been more clear.”

John gave a subtle sigh of relief and gave Bear a friendly pat before following Finch further into the apartment.

“This is quite a place,” Reese murmured. “Not that I should be surprised…”

Finch gave a quiet snort and sat down on the luxurious sofa, patting the cushion next to him for Reese to sit down.

“I was going to ask how you got here so quickly, but then I realized you were monitoring me,” Harold said, tapping the rim of his glasses.

John stiffly sat down. “I wasn’t planning to. I guess it’s become a habit.”

“I suppose you probably know all of my safe house locations by now,” Finch replied with slight annoyance. So much for keeping those a secret.

Reese shrugged. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I’ve never actually been in most of them.”

“That’s hardly comforting…”

Reese shifted on the couch. “Why am I here, Finch?”

Harold turned his body to face him. “The tracking device- you don’t need to roll your eyes, Mr. Reese- is what prompted this.” He reached over and placed his hand next to John’s, not quite touching. “Until a short while ago, I failed to understand your motives for knowing my whereabouts at all times.”

John swallowed loudly. “And you do now?”

“I believe so. I must apologize for not seeing it sooner.”

Reese glanced over and his eyes darted down to Finch’s mouth before he turned back to staring straight ahead.

Harold placed his hand over Reese’s larger one. “John, it’s ok.” He reached up and turned Reese’s face so they were looking at each other before dropping his hand back down. “I would imagine you’ve racked up quite a bill buying those trackers, Mr. Reese,” he said dryly, trying to break the tension.

John’s lips twitched upward at that. “Well, I didn’t really _buy_ them…”

Finch rolled his eyes. “Oh yes, that sounds entirely safe.” He shook his head and continued, “The next time you feel the need to follow me to a safe house, I hope you let me know.”

Reese raised an eyebrow. “Why, so you can scold me about it?”

“If you’re going to monitor me, Mr. Reese, you might as well do it where it’s warm.”

“Oh? So you can add more inappropriate images to that file on your computer?” Reese teased.

Finch huffed in annoyance. “If you’d rather stay outside where it’s cold, then by all means…”

John chuckled and rested his feet on the coffee table in front of them. “Nah, I think I’m good.” He reached his arm over to Harold’s shoulders and moved him so they were nestled shoulder to hip.

“Would you like some shortcake? I picked some up earlier.”

Reese nodded. “Yeah, sounds good.”

Finch looked at him expectantly. “Well, it’s in the kitchen. Help yourself.”

The taller man gave him a look of mild disbelief. “What, I have to get it myself?” He burrowed into the sofa a little more. “I don’t want it _that_ much.”

“Now you’re just being lazy, Mr. Reese,” Finch retorted in an equally teasing tone. “It would appear there was no reason for me to buy those blueberries you wanted so badly.”

John shrugged, “If it’s that big of a deal, I’ll have some later. Right now I’m exactly where I want to be.”

Harold moved his hand and intertwined their fingers. “It’s funny that you say that. So am I.”

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I hope this was somewhat enjoyable, even though the ending is beyond cheesy.


End file.
